


Unrequited

by aigo_babiesatemydingo



Category: The King: Eternal Monarch, 더 킹：영원의 군주 | The King: Eternal Monarch (TV)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, One-Sided Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aigo_babiesatemydingo/pseuds/aigo_babiesatemydingo
Summary: Jo Yeong's been in love with Lee Gon so long he can't remember a time he didn't love him. It's the worst thing about his life.
Relationships: Lee Gon/Jo Yeong, Lee Gon/Jung Tae-eul
Comments: 51
Kudos: 215





	Unrequited

Yeong has been in love with Gon for such a long time he can’t even remember a time before he’d keep himself awake at night thinking about him. It was almost pathetic. No, scratch that, it wasn’t almost pathetic, it was pathetic. 

He was a few years short of thirty and he couldn’t get the King out of his head, as if he were some teenage girl with her first crush. 

Night after night he was unable to sleep because images of that insouciant King ran through his mind; his ridiculous leg longs, his stupidly kissable lips, his overly eager personality. 

Yeong hated how he felt about him, because he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d never breathed a word about liking men to anyone in the palace, or anyone in his life for that matter. There were a few times he’d come close to telling Gon; late at night after drinking, or when they huddled themselves away while abroad, and on lonely nights in strange cities where they revealed secrets like children telling grand stories over a campfire. He’d come very, very close once. Gon, at the time just a teen with the weight of an entire country on his shoulders, had been upset, in tears, and he’d told Yeong all about his insecurities over his ability to rule, how everyone thought of him as useless and unprepared. Yeong had tried to comfort him as best he could, suddenly regretful of ever joking about his position of King, or the silly things he sometimes had to wear, and he wanted to share something in return. It was something Gon wouldn’t truly understand, just as he couldn’t truly understand exactly how Gon felt because they were different people; it would be impossible to know somebody so intimately. But he wanted to tell him so that Gon knew he wasn’t alone with his struggles; that Yeong had trouble with accepting himself too. That he got scared and uncomfortable in his own skin when he saw an attractive guy and felt his heartbeat quicken, or worse, when he’d physically react in a sexual manner. 

But he couldn’t make himself do it. He wasn’t a brave person, not when it came to emotions. If it wasn’t a problem he could tackle physically, he liked to run away from those problems or ignore them until they went away. So he kept his mouth shut and simply reassured Gon that he wasn’t a terrible King, that Corea was lucky to have him. And besides, beneath the pomp and grandeur he was the kindest person Yeong knew, with the brightest smile too. 

Gon had given him a watery grin and thanked him, telling him he’d be there to listen if Yeong ever had an issue he wanted to talk about. Yeong smiled and told him he was fine. 

It’s not that Yeong had never showed his inclination for guys, however. When he was a kid, too young to understand the true meaning behind words like ‘straight’ and ‘gay’, he’d decorated the plant pot of his favourite classroom plant and presented it to the boy who sat at the desk next to his, shyly telling him that he liked him. It was a big thing for Yeong; he had never been good at socialising (he liked Gon's and his own company. His teachers would try to pair him up in class, but nobody was as good as the young King who called him his Unbreakable Sword and showed him how to ride a horse. Besides, no one believed him that the awkward quiet kid was the friend of the King – they called him a liar). The plants had been his favourite thing at school – his only friends, really. He’d always take care of the plants and flowers in the classroom, nurturing them into full bloom, so he couldn’t think of anything better to give as a present. The other little boy had giggled and politely thanked him as he took it, and Yeong felt like he was so tall he could touch the moon. 

That afternoon his mother had been shocked to see him leaving school with a smile on his face, and insisted he tell her all about his day over dinner. So he did, and his mother smiled and told him she was happy he’d finally made a friend outside of the palace. His father, however, had a different reaction and Yeong didn’t understand it. He’d sternly told Yeong to not do that again, to not associate with his new friend any longer. 

Yeong, confused and upset, ended up crying, which just seemed to annoy his father even more. His parents argued, his mother telling his father to be kinder, that he was sensitive. Sensitive was a big word, but Yeong knew it because that’s how his mother and teachers would always describe him; “Jo Yeong is a very sensitive boy”. 

His dad didn’t like it, and would always tell him to man up. He’d tell Yeong stories of his missions in the military, of the always-looming war against the Japanese, and what would happen once Yeong grew up and enlisted. 

He knew from a young age his parents' divorce was his fault. His mother said his father was too hard on him. His father said his mother was too soft on him. “He’ll be a man soon enough,” his father would say, “he’ll act accordingly and do his duty to his country.” He was raising a son, he’d say, not a daughter. 

With his father keeping a stern, watchful eye on him, as he grew Yeong buried his feelings too deep down to touch; something he came to regret terribly. Navigating the world without being able express his feelings, without ever simply falling in love and being loved in return with easy smiles and held hands, he missed all the opportunities those around him took for granted. He felt unclean, like there was a darkness prickling just under his skin, and he had to keep it from breaking out and tearing him apart. 

When he was seventeen he got his first girlfriend. He told her he loved her, and he wasn’t lying. He did love her; he enjoyed spending time with her, she made him laugh and he felt happy when he made her laugh. She was a good person, and Yeong genuinely enjoyed her company. They even had sex which Yeong enjoyed just as much as the next teenage boy, though he never told her she wasn’t really what he was thinking about in those moments, that is was only the physical sensations that turned him on. He really did like her, but something was lacking. He loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her. He guessed that’s why he could choose his career over her without spending days wallowing in self-pity over it. 

What he felt when he played around with Gon, it was completely different. They’d be laughing, and Yeong would be completely high on life without a care in the world, but then sometimes Gon would just look at him in this certain way, and suddenly his breath would catch painfully in his throat and his heart would skip a beat. 

He didn’t know what to do with those feeling, so sometimes he’d push Gon away – much to the older boy’s confusion, who’d thought they’d been having fun. Other times he’d gently mock Gon to get the King to knuckle him on the head or pull him into a headlock, whatever he could to get him closer without arising suspicion. 

That damn King and his stupid face with his giant nose and annoying personality that made him feel like he was lost at sea with a life boat teasingly drifting just out of reach. He drove him insane without even doing anything. 

And Yeong couldn’t tell him. Men weren’t meant to have feelings for other men. Men weren’t meant to be emotional. He was the Captain of the Royal Guard, his duty was to his King and his country, he shouldn’t be sat around fantasising about the King declaring his love to him. Dreaming about the King’s touch, their bodies coming together amidst heavy breaths and warm covers. 

He ached, though, every time Gon leaned in to whisper into his ear, every time Gon shared a private smile with him, every time Gon laughed loudly and the sun caught his eyes and made them shine. 

There was a thousand times he was desperate to just blurt it out, but there were two thousand reasons not to. 

He didn’t want to jeopardise his position as guard and friend to the King, he never wanted to see that look of disappointment in his father’s eyes again, he didn’t want whispers following him wherever he went. Mostly, he didn’t want to bring down the King’s reputation. 

If somehow it got out that the Captain of the Royal Guard was gay, the rumours would never leave Gon alone. Their friendship was too public. People would always be speculating about their relationship, about what they got up to away from the public eye. 

Well, if he wasn’t fired and removed from the palace immediately. The idea that Gon would no longer want anything to do with him if he knew hurt, but Yeong wasn’t foolish enough to dismiss the idea. Although he liked to think their friendship could survive that sort of confession, he didn’t know. 

When Jung Tae Eul entered the King’s life, Yeong’s heart broke. He’d never believed she was a real person, just a childish dream Gon had held on to. It wasn’t her fault, realistically Yeong knew it wasn’t her fault, but he hated her when he realised who she was. He hated that Gon would look at her like she’d hung the moon, he hated that he’d smile when she bossed him around, he hated that she called him by his name so causally. He hated that she had everything with Gon that he’d only ever been able to dream of. 

So of course it was the detective who became the first person to understand. She came to him one day and said “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” and neither had to clarify who she meant. Yeong stiffened, his heart missed a few beats, his brows pulled into a scowl, but his throat closed and his tongue was too heavy and dry and he couldn’t deny it. She looked at him with pity, and Yeong had never hated her so much as in that moment. 

But then his posture fell lose, his shoulders sagged and he felt like he was being dragged underwater. He didn’t want to swim any longer, he was too tried. 

“I’m sorry,” Tae Eul said. “It must be hard.” 

He looked at her, and he could understand why Gon loved her. He was angry and bitter, but he also knew it was pointless to feel that way. He had nothing to be jealous over; Gon was never his, never could be his. 

“Don’t ever tell him,” was all he said, and Tae Eul looked unsure, like she was going to argue, but she stared at him for a few long moments and nodded. 

“He loves you, you know.” She said. 

“Not in the way he loves you,” Yeong replied. 

After that, for the first time he turned off his phone. He didn’t answer the King’s calls or reply to his texts. He wondered aimlessly around a foreign Seoul where nobody knew his face, a place where he could be just another anonymous face in the crowd. For the first time since he was a child, he let himself cry. He sobbed into his sleeves and cursed the universe for the hand he’d been dealt. He dived into the grief of a lifetime of unrequited love. He raged at the memories of his father for making him hate himself. He cried and he cried for what he’d never have with Gon; the final acceptance that he’d never be able to hold him tight, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to make love with him, to tell him that he is his world. 

He cried until he felt drained, until he no longer had the energy to move. He watched couples walking by holding hands – all of them a man and a woman, he watched birds peck at the ground looking for worms or discarded food, he watched cars rush by, and he watched the clouds turn from white to pink and orange and the blue sky to black. 

“It’s cold,” a voice ingrained into his very being said, and Yeong turned to look up at the King. Gon smiled, small and unsure, and he was holding out a coat. Yeong blinked, his mind too foggy to react. Gon shuffled a little on his feet, and Yeong vaguely recognised that he’d never seen the usually confident King behave this way, so hesitant, nervous. 

When Yeong made no reaction, Gon awkwardly pulled the coat into himself, his arms folded around it. He should take it, Yeong knew, but the effort he would have to muster to reach out was too much right now. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Gon asked instead, and Yeong became aware for the first time – or maybe not the first time, he wasn’t sure – that he was sat on a bench. A tree was above him, its leaves like an umbrella. 

The King didn’t wait long for the reply that wasn’t coming, instead he sat besides him, their bodies not quite touching. He looked at Yeong, silently watching, and after a stretch of silence lost to the constant noise of this world’s capital city Yeong met his gaze. 

“You look concerned,” he muttered, then titled his head back to stare at the tree-umbrella. He could just make out the distant lights of a plane through the gaps in the leaves. 

“It’s cold,” Gon repeated, but didn’t try to hand him the coat again. “And its 3am. Your phone is turned off.” 

“Yeah...” Yeong agreed. 

“I...” Gon stopped. Paused. Tried again. “I know you’re not ok. But I...” 

“Did she tell you?” Yeong asked when the King was unable to finish his sentence, still looking at his tree-umbrella. “I asked her not to.” 

“Tae Eul?” Gon asked, unknowing of the stab of hurt it caused his captain. “No. She just said I should stop complaining that you’d cut contact.” 

Yeong smiled towards the leaves, no warmth or humour to it. “At least you listen to someone, I guess.” 

“Not really.” Yeong could feel the shrug, even without their shoulders touching. “I’m here, aren’t I? If I can’t complain over the phone, I have to scold you in person.” 

Yeong titled his head to him, and Gon looked cautiously hopeful. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gon asked. 

Yeong stared at him, into his eyes. This could be the moment. There would be no better one. He could take a gamble, risk the man who meant everything to him turning away in disgust, or accepting him in a way nobody ever had, not even Yeong himself. 

It wasn’t even really a choice. “No,” he said. Men weren’t supposed to be in love with men. Men were supposed to be strong, not weak. He had his duty to his King and his country. That was more important than a childish need of acceptance. “I’ll take the coat though.”


End file.
